


The Pastor of Havens Village

by PaiPaiYah



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Crossover, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-03-29 16:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19023781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaiPaiYah/pseuds/PaiPaiYah
Summary: A charming visitor comes into town to put on a show at the village's yearly festival. An era of peace draws to an end when an accusation stirs the townspeople into a frenzy. It's up to Pastor Spears to resolve an issue he created, however his inner inhibitions might make things worse. A Church Gardener tries to figure out the meaning of 'justice', but starts questioning his own beliefs when everything he loves is in danger.





	1. A Friendly Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first story I'm posting, we'll see how it goes! Feel free to give me your feedback in the comments, I'd love to hear what you think of it! It's still a work in progress, but I thought I would post what I had so far. 
> 
> Essentially it is a very slight Hunchback of Notre Dame crossover with a salem witch trial twist. It doesn't directly follow the Hunchback's plot, but there are similar themes. Eric/Alan and Will/Grell are the two big focal points in this tale. Enjoy!

The the usually quiet, small village was alive with much merriment. The cobblestone streets were mostly hidden under all the people dancing and wandering about the celebration. Colorful banners and decorations of all kinds hung on buildings and across the alleyways. Merchants stood along the town square selling festive masks and noise makers. And where there wasn’t a merchant, there was a food stand offering some sweet treats-or some bread and drinks.

The celebration was held once a year, mainly to commemorate a mysterious statue that carries great legend. Away from the commotion of the village on a grassy hill it sat, too small to be noticed far away. It was simple enough, a raven spreading out it’s wingspan. But the legend behind it was...well….William didn’t really care to get into it. 

As the pastor of the village, he was busy shaking hands politely with everyone he came across. It was awkward smiling, so he didn’t. But the towns people didn’t mind. By now his seriousness was common knowledge, and it was a favored attitude for someone in such a powerful position.

“Willy!”

“ _William_.” He corrected Ronald, the local wine maker. By now he knew the other quite well, he sells a red wine for the church’s use during mass.

“Aren’t yah done working tonight, Pastor?” The man asked, pondering. His tone was serious but the glint in his bright green eyes was playful in nature. “Or do I have to stick to formal names even at a festivity?”

“No matter what the situation may be, calling me ‘Willy’ is strictly prohibited. And being a pastor is hardly a job. It’s a lifestyle.”

“Will?”

“Slightly more tolerable.” He allowed. You couldn’t ask too much from Ronald, the man was a free spirit. He did as he pleased. It wasn’t the first time he called the pastor such a ghastly nickname, and unfortunately it wouldn’t be the last. 

“Well… _Will_..” His grin was as wide and adoring as if ‘Will’ hadn’t suggested that nick name to him at least a thousand times prior, “Are you going to watch the performance?” 

“The dancer?” William asked. It was a woman that came in from out of town. Apparently she was world renown for her performances, and it was by such luck and a pretty penny that the village was able to get her to perform. 

“Yes!” Ronald confirmed, practically bouncing in all his excitement.

“I suppose so.” He shrugged, for the most part uncaring if he saw it. If it were up to him he’d be at home going over his sermons for next week’s mass. However, it was important for him to attend these events and welcome any newcomers into the village. 

“Glad to hear it! Maybe she’ll show you a thing or two.”

“A-uh..what now?”  
“Dance moves, Will.” He clarified with a flick of his finger, “That’s what I’m hoping for; maybe if I stand close enough to the stage I’ll soak up some of her talent.” 

“Yes...well, I’m sure you would enjoy that.” He grimaced, quickly loosing patience for this conversation. Dancing wasn’t a skill he was interested in learning. “If you’ll excuse me, I am in need of a drink.”

The blonde smiled, understanding the pastor was done conversing for now. He always had a limited tolerance when it came to discussing anything fun. “Of course! If you go the last booth left of here my helpers have a beverage fit for the occasion. Feel free to one, on me.” 

“Thanks.” Will waved, dismissing himself before taking Ronald’s advise. Except for mass, normally he didn’t drink. But considering the circumstances loosening up with one couldn’t hurt.


	2. The Performance

The sun sank low enough to give the village a golden hue when the music started playing. The villager’s hearts pounded with the sound of the thumping drums and their spirits flew with the lute’s melody-creating an amplified excitement that rose in the cool air. They stood huddled close along the long, narrow wooden stage. Some bounced on their tiptoes or stretched their necks up to get a better view of the red curtains that hung at the entrance. 

William was seated separately from the crowd in a big, velvet chair at the foot of the stage, facing the curtains. It was a nice location, raised above everyone yet close enough to get a good view. Ronald thought it was nice too. William caught him eyeing up his seat like a starving child eyeing up a private feast. He waved awkwardly to the wide eyed boy, who scoffed and continued to wedge through the crowd to get a better view. 

It was hard to pay attention to the waving crowd or the dancing musicians, Ronald’s expression was stuck in the pastor’s mind. His scrunched brow and the burning glint in his eyes were nothing more than a child’s jealousy. He’d get over it eventually. With a frown he absently fiddled with the gold trim on the arms of the chair. For a moment he scanned the villagers, searching for Ronald’s mop of wavy honey colored hair. Unsuccessful in his search, he tugged at his lip and stood up before stepping down onto the wooden stage.

He felt everyone’s eyes drift to him for a moment, but then was drawn away when a pair of pale, delicate looking hands slipped out from the red curtain. The fingers snapped stylishly to a few beats of the music-and then the dancer flourished out, the curtains swooshing behind her entrance.

The right word to describe the dancer was entrancing. William was a statue with his mouth ajar, as he watched her slender frame twirl. The elegant, ruby colored robes she wore billowed and swayed in waves as she moved to the beat of the music. Hip length auburn hair hung free and blew fluidly as she twirled. 

She seemed to not notice the pastor’s presence on her stage. She was off in her own little world, her eyes were closed most of the time. It was a wonder that she didn’t fall off the platform and into the crowd. At one point it looked like she was going to. She leaned down to caress the wood carver’s face, all the while dropping into a split in one smooth motion. Her wink at the carver’s dopey expression made William’s cheeks burn pink and his neck stiffen.

 

His chest felt heavy. Jealousy-maybe? No, that was a sin. Plus, the woodcarver was known for having a natural ….charisma when it came to women. He shouldn’t take it personally. However for a lady to openly flirt in such a way was absurd. 

When she stood up and noticed William it felt like the world around him froze as well. Their eyes met, and she was still like one of those beautiful painted statues. His neck started to sweat under her twinkling gaze and her rosy lips curling up into a smile made it hard to focus on much else. A weak smile nearly crossed his as the awkward moment stretched on. He hoped to come across as apologetic, but it was also a little awkward.

His mind raced to find a solution, to get back to the safety of his chair. But before he could get his legs to move she came back to life and spiraled towards him. He tried to look away but was unable when he felt her hands on his shoulders. “Hello Pastor,” The closeness of her body and the sweetness of her greeting made William’s stone legs turn to noodles. “Shall we dance?”

His eyebrows drew together quickly, but before he could find any words she started swaying. Smooth hands sliding to the back of his neck and the encouragement from the crowd made his protest turn into some sort of a throaty noise. Surely, he must have been out of his mind but his hands moved to her waist. Slowly, wobbly, he started moving his feet in tune with hers. Though it was an awkward shuffle at first, she giggled and nodded in encouragement. 

“I was wondering if you moved as smoothly as you look.” She complimented, enjoying how the red flush on his cheeks continued to deepen. 

“And?” He wasn’t sure where he found the ability to twirl her out before bringing her into a dip, but he thanked heaven above for it.

“Not bad, Pastor.” She breathed, her red lips came close to his as they rose back up from the dip. 

His hand stayed on her slim waist as they moved close….feeling the warmth of her body and seeing the flutter of her dark eye lashes made his pulse feel erratic and fluttery. He tried to refocus his attention to the upbeat music, but he could hear the pound of his heart louder than the sound of the drums. Something wasn’t right….he shouldn’t be dancing so intimately with this...this...

“Are you holding up alright, darling?” Sweat was forming along his brow, and she was quick to pick up on the shakiness of his hands. The syrup of her voice became bitter to his ears, the shake of his head made him feel nauseous.

“Am I dying….?” He breathed out, his muscles tightened with his increasing heart rate. He could feel a few droplets of sweat run down his forehead. 

“ _Dying_?” The dancer questioned, and yelped when the Pastor suddenly shoved her away. 

“Witch!” he hollared, the realization hit him like a brick. He hunched over, his breathes were coming out in hard puffs between words. “She’s a witch!” The music halted to a stop. 

“Excuse me?!” She gasped along with the confused crowd as Will took a hand off his knee to jab his finger at her. Her eyes were wide at the accusation, and her mouth was hanging open.

“There is a corruption in this village!” He exclaimed once more, finding his voice and lifting his head in declaration to the sky instead of the crowd below. “She was using the devil’s magic to taint my soul!”, the crowd gasped, “But-I have dedicated my life to God and I am still firmly under the protection of the church!” 

“What will you do with her, pastor?” A farmer spoke up.

An old housewife joined in. “She tried tah kill yah!” 

“Some lashes are in order! Get the demon out!-” The butcher suggested firmly. Others nodded in agreement.

“Please-the only way to put end to a witch is a hanging and you know it!” The commotion the villagers made was loud enough to cover the sound of the shriek from the woman accused. 

“Lashes?!” She was appalled. “Pastor, you won’t let them do that to me, will you?!” She took a step forward, but William’s eyes were steel and stopped her in her tracks. 

Internally frazzled and hardly collected, he ordered. “Guards, arrest her.” 

The witch stumbled, but before she could manage any successful escape off the stage the guards had her. Swiftly, they bound her arms back with rope. William came towards her. 

Helplessly, her body slouched against the guards that held her. Her ruffled up hair hung in her face, and out of some compulsion William reached up and tucked it behind her small, rosy ear. Looking up at him with the expression she had was unsettling. Her brows were arched downward and her eyes were alight like a burning flame.

“Are you denying any partake in witchcraft?” William asked loud enough that the crowd hushed down to hear them. 

“Why are you being so dramatic, darling?” Her voice drawled. “I am a dancer! Now, tell your guards to release me so I can finish my performance? You are destroying the mood!” 

“Pastor! She’s wantin’ tah finish the performance to curse you at the end!” A local farmer deducted.

A lady gasped “Don’t release her, any women that acts so provocative is dangerous! She’ll curse us all!” The crowd roared in agreement. 

Will hushed them with a wave of his hand. “It is obvious that this...woman...is very dangerous. For now we will put her in the cellar until god gives me a clear idea of how to properly deal with her.” He decided.

The majority of the villagers groaned in a mutual disappointment. Years back any form of punishment was the town’s favorite way to end an evening. 

“Until further notice, carry on.” He dismissed promptly. The gathering murmured to each other before breaking off from the stage. “Guards, take her away and make sure she’s locked up good and tight.” He ordered, the dancer started struggling, her legs flailed in the air. However the guards had a good enough of a grip that they were able to successfully carry her away to the jail cells. 

Once everyone was gone Will climbed down from the stage and sighed. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breathes. It was finally time to go home.


	3. Bed Time Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Such a short chapter, but sometimes those are nice. It's a little prelude for what's to follow.

As William sat on his bed in his pajamas, he pondered the dancer. She was very clever; faking innocence. A woman that tried to corrupt him with witchcraft….drag him, an avid follower of god, down the road of temptation. There was no way he’d felt that way unless witchcraft was involved….the only time he ever got that sick feeling was when some sort of corruption was in the air. But the church was protecting him, like always he had to remember that and move on. The witch would be dealt with soon, and life would go on.

The priest blew out his lamp, and then settled in his bed for what he hoped would be a good night’s sleep. 

It wasn’t.


	4. A Favor

The sun had barely risen from the crest of the earth when Alan Humphries stirred awake. His brown hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his body was burning up thanks to the blankets….and thanks to his love, who was still asleep and snuggled in close beside him. Carefully, he folded down his half of the blankets and stretched out his limbs, smiling at the feel of the cooler air on his skin. 

At this point in his relationship, he found himself waking up from a heat flash nearly every morning. But instead of huffing and puffing over the lost sleep, he nuzzled closer to the lump of a man wrapped in sheets. Pondering how Eric always slept so soundly suffocated in heat, he gave the nose sticking out for air a little smooch. There was a sniff, but then the soft breathing pattern continued. 

As the church gardener, Alan was expected to do his duties early in the morning. And the sooner the better, he had lots of grass to cut and bushes to trim. Thoughts of planting the summer flowers along the walkway made getting out of bed a little easier. Carefully he shifted his weight off the bed, and gave his lump a little goodbye kiss before he got ready for the day. 

A few hours in to work and his back was already slicked with sweat. The sun had risen hot, and it burned his shoulders and neck as he attacked the grass with his cutting tools. 

“Good morning, Alan.” He was almost ready to move onto the bushes when he heard the pastor greet him from behind. 

“Pastor Spears,” Alan promptly stood from his work and turned around. “How are you liking the grass?”

William took hardly a moment to examine the freshly cut lawn. “You do a fine job, as usual.” He complimented, as he shifted his weight and fiddled with something in his robes. 

“Are you alright pastor?” Alan asked, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the looseness to his usual gelled hair. 

“Oh, yes. I had a, uh, troubled time sleeping. But it happens time to time again...” His voiced trailed off and there was a moment of speechlessness between the two. 

“Great festival last night!” Alan commented, trying to lighten the mood. The pastor froze. His distant stare made Alan’s mouth feel very dry. His thoughts immediately went to Eric, and memory of them holding hands briefly during the performance last night. If anyone in the village (especially the Pastor) knew of their intimacy...it wouldn’t end well. Hanging would be the most merciful of options, but being with Eric made any death in the world seem beautiful. 

“I suppose so...” Will mumbled before clearing his throat. The fumbling in the robe continued. “Alan, I have a question for you.” 

Alan’s dry mouth felt nothing in comparison to his tightening gut. “Ah, yes, what’s on your mind?” 

He took a painful pause to clear his throat. “Could you...go to the market and grab some food, and then bring it to the dancer?” 

Alan’s mouth hung open. His mind went fuzzy when it tried to register a request much different than his previous train of thought. “….What?”

“The Dancer!” Will repeated, a little loud, so he took a breath and continued in a hush. “Grell. I...well, you know…the food the prisoners get is rotten and scraps….and I thought that-”

Alan’s eyebrows were scrunched together. “Pastor...are you blushing?” The coloring on Will’s ears deepened from pink to red. 

He didn’t answer the question, and the burning glint in his eyes destroyed Alan’s desire to press the issue. “Here’s some money for the market. There’s a key in there as well to get you in to the cell. I’m trusting you with this. Don’t let me down.”

Alan, bewildered at the notion, took the small sack he was handed and put it in his pant’s pocket. “You have my word.” 

“Good.” Alan assumed Will did his very best attempt at a smile, though the way his lips pursed resembled a grimace. “Thank you.”

“No trouble.” He waved goodbye as the pastor dismissed himself by walking into the church. Now that he was alone, the coin purse felt heavy in his pocket and his mind ached with a new kind of worry. If witches did exist, he was supposed to bring one food. By himself. There were a few guards, but he was certain they’d accomplish very little protecting him against a curse. But if you do as the pastor says god gives you a good life in return. That is how things worked. For a moment he fondly considered his nice home, his steady job, and his Eric. Now wasn’t the time to get on the pastor’s bad side, so he was going to deliver food to a witch. And he was going to return home safely.


	5. The Witch's Visitor

Judging by the sun’s position in the sky, it was a little past noon when Alan made it to the prison cells with a nicely bundled up package of food. Two guards, Anthony and Samson, stood in front of a heavy looking set of wooden doors. Their weapons were gripped securely and Anthony’s chest was puffed out, oozing importance. Alan took his time approaching them.

“Hault, villager! Who goes there?”

Samson slumped against the stone pillar that supported the entrance. “Oh, relax, will yah?” He waved his hand dismissively at his partner before redirecting his attention. “It’s that church gardener, ain’t it?” 

“Yes. My name is Alan Humphries. The pastor told me to bring some food to the dancer.” He explained. The guard’s gasped. Samson dropped his spear.

“You’re bringing food to-to who?!”

“The Pastor’s wanting yah dead, does he? You heard him last night, right?! Tell ‘im Anthony!” 

The tightness swelled up in his chest. “Dead? Surely not!”

Anthony’s lips curled up. A few of his teeth were missing, and the ones left were curved askew like a bad hangnail. “Last night, as I passed the window, right...I heard her through the cracks.” His voice dropped to an octave that made the hairs stand up on Alan’s arms. “Moaning,...rambling on...utter nonsense! I tell you, I was once a bit of a skeptic when it came to witches. After all, how could a lady be anything bad, right?”

Alan nodded, smiling tightly. The guard clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. His dull eyes were big and bulging, making it impossible to look away. 

“But I’ll tell you what. If that wasn’t the devil’s doing, I don’t know what was. After all, this village does have legend-”

“Oh, quiet about that!” The Samson hushed him. “How many years ago was it? Not in your life time, that’s for sure. And it’s not going to be in your life time, either! Don’t scare the man too much, he still has to deliver food…...Scare ‘im after he’s cursed!” They both laughed at the joke.

Alan hummed, which was all he could do with the lump in his throat. 

“Okay, let him through. You have a key, right?”

“Yes.” He answered, eyebrows raised as he fumbled in his pocket for the key, and then scooted between the guards to unlock the door. 

“Just so you know….” Anthony mumbled. “If the devil enters your body, we have to-” His partner mocked a hanging, his squinted eyes rolled to the back of his head and his tongue flopped out dramatically as he shook. Their laughter seemed like background music compared to the ringing in Alan’s flushed ears. 

“Sounds good.” Was the only response he could formulate before walking into the cells and shutting the door behind him.

Only a few lantern’s were lit. Luckily some daylight peaked in through the small, bared windows and brightened up the gaps of darkness in between the cells that lined the hallway ahead. Still being able to hear the guard’s (who were now taking bets on Alan’s fate), he starting walking. As the guard’s voices faded he tried to listen for them as he passed empty cell after empty cell. They made his head ache, but it would be favored over the silence. 

It wasn’t too surprising that the cells were deserted. The village hadn’t had any troublemakers or witches in years. It looked it too, there were fluffs of cobwebs and dust in many nooks and crannies, and some small ecosystems started to grow in the pools of water that filled the unevenness of the cobblestone floor. The cells were a decent size, but there wasn’t much to them. No real furniture, aside from a makeshift bed. Or, if you were unlucky, some of them had a small lump of hay with little bugs crawling about it. Alan’s stomach turned at the thought of spending a night here. 

As he slowly neared the end of the hallway, Grell became aware that she had a visitor. Alan could hear shuffling; clanking noises echoing off the walls.

Sure enough, she was in the last cell on the left. Back straight and muscles clenched, she sat on the cleanest looking edge of the rotting wooden bed frame. Her arms were folded behind her back with rope and he could just barely make out the metal cuff that peaked out from the bottom of her red dress. She shifted, her chest was heaving in the tight corset and the skin around her armpits was blistering red. It was a wonder why the guards didn’t give her any other clothes to wear. Her auburn hair hung in her face, hiding most of her expression. 

“Hello...” He did his best to smile and give a very short lived little wave. 

“Greetings.” She frowned, barely acknowledging him.

“Right,..I’m Alan. Alan Humphries. I am here to….” How was she going to eat without her hands? “To give you some help.” He decided to phrase it. 

“Give me some help?” Grell raised an eyebrow, finally looking at him. “How so? I appreciate the attempt darling, but there are guards everywhere! They love me, you know.” 

It took Alan a moment to process what Grell was referring to.“Oh!” He shook his head quickly. “Oh; no! Sorry, I’m not here to help you escape.” 

“Oh.” Her smeared lips puffed out into a pout. Her shoulder’s slumped. “Goodbye then.” 

Alan’s heart thudded at those words. His cheeks burned with the rejection as she turned her back towards him. The food he picked out for her was gripped in his hands and he was compelled to throw it in the cell and stomp off. But he could see the reddening marks cutting off her circulation. “That corset looks uncomfortable. Are you meant to wear it for long?”

It took a moment before Grell answered. “It is unbearable.” She breathed quiet enough that Alan could barely hear it. 

“I have an extra shirt in my bag. Do you want it?” He wasn’t sure if he had permission to give her clothes or not, but someone in this town had to show her some kindness.

She turned her head and examined Alan. Lanky, with a mop of brown hair and silver framed glasses. A sweet smile spread across her face. “Would you mind giving me a hand? The guards offered to help, but I don’t trust them.”

“You shouldn’t.” Alan agreed, thinking back to the pair outside the door. As he fumbled with the key and the food in his hands, he worked on unlocking the door. There was a good possibility that if she was a witch, getting him to unlock the cell and go inside would be some cruel trick to escape. But his mind felt very disconnected from his body, and he couldn’t stop himself from stepping inside. 

He set the package down on the wood and then shrugged the bag off his shoulders. “Where are you from?” It took a moment of rooting around for him to locate his shirt. He always brought one along in case he had to go somewhere and look decent after work.

“I have no permanent residence. A traveling performer, as it were.” She watched Alan as he pulled out the shirt. Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Am I really going to be wearing that?”

It was a simple woven shirt, but it was about all he could afford. It was actually one of his nicer clothing items. Plus Eric was so fond of it. He looked away, taking a deep breath to cool his blush. “I can leave you in your corset then.” 

“No! No, please, no. It uh, looks very nice.” Her grin was wide and hopeful.

Alan sighed, her attempted enthusiasm was enough motivation for him to pull out his small knife. “Hold still.”

Her body stiffened, seeing the knife. But after a moment she relaxed. “Cut me and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

Alan’s throat tensed at her warning. “The guards told me you are a witch.” He blurted out. 

“So?” 

“….Are you one?” There was some silence.

“I am a dancer.” Her voice carried a note of annoyance and her arms wiggled in hopes the knife would soon set them free.

“Are you more than that?” He didn’t take the hint and continued to pester.

“What is with the people in this village?” She groaned, rolling her eyes. “I came here to provide fantastic entertainment, and what do I get in return?! I’m accused of witchcraft! And I’m forced to sleep on this rotting hunk of wood in an old, dirty cell while I await my murder!” Grell’s voice grew breathy from the lack of air to her lungs, but she kept ranting. Her cheeks were puffed out and her eyebrows were scrunched together.

“None of this makes sense! All I did was greet the pastor, and then he condemns me to hell and throws me in here! He’s most likely too big a coward to face me himself, so he sent you to make his conscious feel better-he did send you, did he not? In a town so wicked, you wonder if I’m a witch? Well? Am I?!” Her green eyes burned into Alan’s, whose mouth was hanging open- speechless. 

“Am I a witch?!” Her tone was hard, demanding. “You were so afraid that I am going to hurt you, so you tell me! Or is everyone in this village as delusional as the pastor?!”

Alan couldn’t find a response. Her cackle created goosebumps along his arms. “Never mind, then. Carry on. Tell the pastor I send my love, will you?”

Alan nodded, setting the knife down to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulders. Without another word he walked out of the cell and locked it shut. He took one last look at Grell, was sitting with her back towards him once more. 

“Bye.” Was all he managed to get out before he left the cells.


	6. Home is Far Sweeter with You

The sun was starting to dip behind the trees and most of the villagers abandoned the streets to go inside their dwellings for supper-Alan included. The dirt of the small road crunched under his leather work boots as he stumbled up the driveway and jiggled the front door open by the handle. After closing the door he slumped out of his heavy coat, and hung it on the hook by the door. 

The cabin he shared with Eric wasn’t much, but the woven blankets draped on the few pieces of furniture and the interesting wood work made him uncaring if he was living in a shack or a mansion. Some small flames flickered in the fireplace in desperate need of fuel. Alan walked past it. 

“Eric?” He called, glancing around for his partner. When there was no response and the rooms were checked he made his way out back to their small grassy yard, where his love was busy carving something curvy out of a plank of dark wood. 

Eric looked up when he heard the shuffling grass, “All done with work?” He greeted, putting down his work saw when he saw it was Alan and not some animal trying to eat the small purple flowers that lined the cabin and the yard. 

Alan nodded duly, plopping himself down onto the grass.

Eric’s smile faltered, “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” 

Alan stared at the grass and shrugged, finding it difficult to swallow under the weight of his boyfriend’s concern. 

“It’s nearly dusk…..Is the Pastor giving you too much of a workload again? I know you like gardening, but I’d fancy seeing him try to trim five bushes in one hot day and then see how he feels-”

“No. It’s not yard work.” He corrected, grabbing Eric’s raised hands to calm him down from his little rant. “I was ordered to give the dancer lunch today.”

“The dancer?” Eric relaxed as Alan’s thumbs rubbed the backs of his hands.

“Yes.” 

“That’s an odd order to give a church gardener, don’t you think?” He asked, bringing Alan’s hands to his face to give his knuckles little kisses.

“Mmn, maybe so.” He scooted closer to Eric, who was smiling at him; an angel with his wavy honey hair and the gentle look in his eyes. He could have easily courted any girl in the village, even coming from a poor family. It was always mind boggling that he fancied the church gardener enough to finally settle down from his frisky lifestyle. “...Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask me anything.” 

“Do you…believe in witchcraft?” 

Eric pursed his lips as he considered the question for a moment. “Do you want my honest answer?”

“Do you want to lie to me?” Alan quipped back. Eric squeezed his hands and shook his head.

“Witchcraft? No such thing. But demons? I think it’s possible, yes.” He watched Alan carefully process his words. “A better question to ask is; why is it only women who are condemned, when the devil himself is male? Not saying men are all bad-you are perfect-” He winked, loving how Alan’s cheeks turned pink. “But I think that fear and anger, dealing with the unknown, it can bring out the worst in people. Do you think Grell is a witch?”

There was the question again. Alan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I don’t have an answer.” 

“It’s okay.” He kissed Alan’s hands again, happy to see his eyes open and his composure relax.   
“Can I ask...If Grell was never accused by Pastor William, would you have even considered it?”

Alan thought back to Grell, who was dancing all over the stage with a big smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes. Her red dress lifting off the ground, crowd cheering, as she twirled to the tambourine music that played. From his point of view she did nothing worth condemning. “Most likely not. No one was hurt, and the whole crowd loved her.” 

“I know I did.” Eric mumbled, Alan smacked his cheek playfully. 

“Be serious. Why did the pastor condemn her then?” 

“You tell me.”

“He claimed he was being cursed.”

“Do you believe him?”

Alan groaned, all these questions was beginning to make his head throb. “You are never this full of difficult questions, you know that?”

Eric chuckled. “Maybe not, but thinking this all out will make you feel better.” He slid down from his work stool and onto the grass. “I can stop asking them, if you prefer.” 

The temptation to get him to stop asking was strong, his head hurt and his back ached. He wanted to make up some tea and settle down for the evening….But Eric had a fair point. This matter had been confusing him ever since he left the prison cell, and it probably wasn’t going to stop confusing him as he tried to fall asleep, either. “No, continue on.” He sighed, slumping against Eric’s side.

“Okay.” Eric draped his arm around him, and for a moment they sat and thought in silence. The hazy blue sky was darkening, and a few little stars were becoming visible. A breeze swept by. Alan shivered and nuzzled into the warm body he now had his arms wrapped around. “What’s she pleading?” Eric’s sentence was short due his heart fluttering out of his chest.

Alan remembered how Grell ranted in all her confusion; her eyes alight with a feeling Alan knew but couldn’t easily put into words. “Innocent.”  
“Would it change if her life depended on it?”

“Plead guilty and in turn damn her soul?” Alan shook his head. “I can’t imagine many would take that route.”

Eric hummed, drawing circles along Alan’s side. “Many don’t take that route.”

“But if she pleads innocent and is found guilty... I don’t feel right about the...repercussions. She doesn’t even live here!” 

Eric nodded stiffly, his lips were pursed tight. Alan sat upright, all of the sudden excited.

“Even if William was right about her, couldn’t we have some other alternative? He could try to get the devil out! Or! We could set her free if she promises to never come back!” His hands clapped together. “I could suggest it to him tomorrow and see what he says!”

Eric was silent. 

“What say you?”

“That might not be a good idea.” He mumbled.

Alan frowned, his brow twitched. “Why not? If we could save her life-!”

“Her life-!” He cut in, but looking at Alan, the rest of his words failed him. 

“Eric?” His voice was delicate as he watched his boyfriend rub his forehead and take some deep breaths. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,..I’m sorry...” He was unusually quiet, Alan had to lean in to hear him. “But please, promise me you won’t get involved.” 

“But-” Eric cupped Alan’s cheek, silencing him. His eyes made him look completely different when they were wide and full of emotion….what was it? Fear? Concern? Alan couldn’t place it, but it made his chest ache.

“Alan, listen to me.” He pleaded. “I’ve lived in this village all my life. And when you moved here it was peaceful, and it still is. But you can’t get involved to try and keep it that way.”

“Why?”

Eric shook his head in response. 

“So what do I do then, Eric?!” He spoke up again, since obviously he was the only one willing to talk. His fists were clenched. “Stay silent as an innocent traveler gets murdered?!”

“You have the biggest heart I’ve ever met.” Eric’s lips twitched up into a ghost of a smile. “But you need to use it wisely, okay?”

“You need to trust me with it.” He countered. “I want to give the Pastor a simple suggestion, and it could be one that saves a woman’s life.” For a good moment they looked at each other. The emotions in their expressions spoke far greater words than their minds could comprehend.

“Everything will be okay, I can do this.” His smile was full of confidence; not knowing the full reason behind Eric’s concern. 

But he had his reasons. Reasons that he searched for the strength to express, but could never quite find. “It’s not my place to stop you from what you’re determined to do. But..please...be careful.”

Alan nodded. “I will be careful, I promise.”

Eric squeezed his hand once before letting go. “I...I think I need a drink.”

“Right.” 

“I’ll be home soon.” He leaned in, giving Alan a quick smooch. Before he could leave Alan pulled him in and gave him a proper one. 

“Please, do. Be careful.” He breathed.

Eric nodded, wanting to go in for another kiss, but decided to save it for later. “I will be careful, I promise.” He copied Alan’s words as he stood up and exited their property to go to his favorite little Tavern. He was hoping to get a drink, but he also needed a favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was about time for some Eric and Alan Fluff, they deserve much happiness!


End file.
